Muscle Memory
by Caera1996
Summary: Kirk, McCoy and Spock continue to deal with Kirk's post traumatic stress reaction to Spock, while a new relationship develops between Kirk and McCoy.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Muscle Memory

Author: Caera1996  
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Please. Is this even necessary?

Summary: "Post traumatic stress reaction," McCoy said into the quiet. "So what do I do?" Jim asked. "I can't freak out every time Spock waves in my direction."

Note: This was written as a fill for a prompt on the kink meme. The prompt can be found here: **.com/st_xi_kink_**

Uhura looked around the table, taking in the conversations going on around her. After a long week of discussions, the dinner with the Kailri'ia delegation was the final event that would cap off the Enterprises' ultimately successful first diplomatic assignment. Leaning back, she allowed herself a moment of relief. No one had said anything accidentally offensive, the captain had proven that he actually was capable of behaving himself for an extended period, and the rest of the senior crew, even the eternally annoyed Dr. McCoy, appeared to be enjoying the company of their affable guests. Everything was going…surprisingly well.

At the end of the evening, the Kailri'ia chancellor stood and asked for the attention of the room. Talking around the table quieted as everyone's attention turned toward the head of the table.

"If the captain would join me, we have a token of thanks we would like to present," Chancellor Trivati said. Jim smiled and stood to make his way to the chancellor's side, towering over the diminutive being. Vice-Chancellor Lirik stood as well, and as the chancellor offered the formal words of closing for the important talks, Lirik handed a medallion on a ribbon to Trivati. When he indicated his desire to put the medallion on Jim, the captain started to bend over at the waist, but stopped when Trivati spoke again.

"Perhaps Commander Spock would be kind enough to lend us his height?" he suggested.

"Certainly," Spock answered. He rose and took the medallion from Trivati. He stood facing Jim, medallion in his hands, and moved to settle the ribbon over Jim's head and around his neck

McCoy saw something change, in Jim's face, a split-second before it happened, but he didn't realize what he was seeing until it was too late to do anything. With a choked off, wordless cry, Jim took a reflexive step back, bringing his arms up defensively and pushing Spock's forearms to the side, fast and hard. His swift movement backward knocked the chancellor to the ground behind him. All the color had drained from his face and uncontrolled panic was momentarily visible in his eyes.

"Jim!" McCoy called, standing to corral him in case something else happened. All around him, noise and motion erupted. The four other members of the Kailri'ia delegation were on their feet, yelling. Lirik was helping Trivati to stand and the other bridge officers were looking to their commanding officers, momentarily stunned. Uhura was the only one who actively reacting, speaking to the Kailri'ia in their own language. McCoy's eyes swept over Jim to Trivati. Jim appeared frozen, stunned by his reaction. It looked like it, whatever it was, was over.

"Chancellor," McCoy moving around the table to crouch down to better examine him, wincing slightly as he realized he just committed a breach of decorum Uhura had warned them about. _Nothin' for it now,_ he decided. "Are you hurt, sir?"

"No, Dr. McCoy. I appear to be uninjured. Perhaps you should look to your captain…before he knocks over anyone else," Trivati replied. Given the situation, the chancellor was very even-keeled, and didn't sound particularly offended.

Looking the man in the eye, he replied, "Thank you, Chancellor." Trivati inclined his head slightly, and McCoy stood, focusing his attention on Jim. Standing off to the side, he'd put the width of the table between himself and Spock, who currently was quietly speaking with members of the delegation, the medallion still in his hands. Looking around, McCoy noted that he and Jim were still the center of most people's attention, including Sulu and Chekov, who looked somewhere between stunned and concerned.

"Captain?" McCoy tried to get his attention. Jim looked tense, hands clenched into fists, as he stood silently, eyes trained on the ground. McCoy didn't have to wonder too hard about what he was seeing in his mind's eye. After a moment, he tried again.

"Jim?" He said, softer and concern evident in his voice. He took a step towards him, and was unsurprised to see Jim counter it, moving back and raising a hand, indicating that McCoy should come no closer.

"Bones…don't."

"Captain," Uhura's voice, clear and concerned rose above the others in the room, and that seemed to get through to Jim. He straightened from his defensive, slightly hunched posture and his "Captain" mask slipped over his features, and if it didn't fit quite so well around his eyes, it was likely that no one but McCoy would notice.

As Jim set to the task of smoothing over the incident, McCoy's eyes found Spock's. They both knew exactly what that had been about, and McCoy was certain how he felt about the situation was written all over his face. Spock looked away, and McCoy wondered if he had it in him to feel any guilt over what he'd done. It wasn't appropriate now, but they were damn sure going to have words later.

The rest of the evening passed quickly and without any other problems. The Kailri'ias were remarkably forgiving, undoubtedly mostly because the chancellor was so willing to move past what had happened, and partly because of their naturally amicable nature, and no diplomatic harm appeared to have been done. Spock was careful to keep his distance from Jim for the rest of the evening, and though he didn't look perturbed in the slightest, the concerned looks Uhura threw his way periodically spoke volumes.

Jim left Spock and Uhura to escort their guests to the transporter room, gave a quick order of dismissal to the other officers in the room, and was finally able to leave. He hurried through the corridors of his ship, barely even paying attention to where he was going. He still felt like he couldn't breathe and the urge to _get away _was still thrumming beneath his skin.

"Computer, lights 70%," he ordered as he entered his quarters. He collected a t-shirt and sweats from his drawer and went into the bathroom. Undressing quickly, he set the shower to as hot as he could take it and stood under the spray, bracing is arms against the wall, he bowed his head and let himself shake until the tension finally let go completely. A while later, feeling slightly better, and embarrassed over the scene he'd caused, he stepped out of the shower, dried off and dressed before exiting the bathroom.

McCoy was waiting for him, as Jim expected he would be.

"Jim, we need to talk," McCoy said. _And here we go_, Jim thought, not unkindly, and with more than a little fond exasperation.

"I'm f--"

"Jim, if you say you're fine, I'll…" McCoy broke off, stopping himself from finishing that inappropriate thought. Jim smirked.

"You'll choke me yourself?" He filled in. McCoy simply pursed his lips and sat back, waiting. Jim eyed him for a moment, knowing that there was no way to get out of this. With a huge sigh, Jim flung himself down on his bed on his back. He was quiet for a moment, trying to remember how he'd felt in that instant.

"I…I'm not sure what happened. One second, everything was fine, but then…" he trailed off, not sure what else to say. It's not as if Bones didn't know what happened.

"Post traumatic stress reaction," McCoy said into the quiet. Jim cringed, knowing he was right (he'd taken the required courses, after all) and hating it. Jim sighed again. He had to deal with this, he knew. He just wasn't sure how.

"So what do I do?" Jim asked. "I can't freak out every time Spock waves in my direction."

"You could have that green-blooded hob-goblin transferred," McCoy suggested. The heat and anger in his voice caused Jim to lean up on his elbows to look closely at the doctor, noting his barely controlled agitation for the first time. "That bastard could've killed you Jim, and I just…"

"Hey, stop it," Jim interrupted. "We've talked about this. I had to. I had to make him realize he wasn't fit for command then. It isn't as if you could've done anything to stop him, and anyway, it wasn't your job to do anything. Cupcake and some of his goons were standing right there, and it's not like they did anything, and it actually _was_ their job."

"Yeah, but you're not their…" He stopped, looking away. He actually wasn't sure how to quantify what they were to each other, and he certainly wasn't going to be the one to name it out loud first. He felt Jim studying him before the younger man reached out a hand.

"Come here?" McCoy looked up at Jim, and after a moment moved to comply. Jim laid back down, and after shedding his formal tunic and shoes, McCoy joined him. He wrapped his arms around Jim as the blonde settled his just-washed head on McCoy's chest, dampening his undershirt.

"What do I do?" Jim asked, and then immediately added, "And I don't want Spock to transfer."

"Well, we can try some desensitizing techniques with biofeedback. Spock will have to be willing to participate, of course. But these flashbacks, they might hang around for a while, and I'm really not sure what to do about that." Jim was about to reply when his comm terminal beeped, indicating that he'd just received a message. Considering the events of the evening, Jim couldn't ignore it. Disentangling himself from McCoy's grasp, he got up and sat at his desk to call up the message. McCoy watched as he read it, and by the tightening of Jim's eyes he could tell it wasn't good news.

"I have to go see Spock," Jim said when he finished reading.

"Jim, it can wait until tomorrow."

"No…no it can't. Spock just sent me a transfer request."

_Good old Vulcan logic, _McCoy thought with more than a little ire.

"I don't think you should go see him tonight, Jim," he said instead. "After your reaction earlier…you have to give yourself time to, well, reset, for lack of a better term."

But Jim was already at his closet, replacing his t-shirt and sweats with the customary uniform.

"Bones, if I wait until the morning I won't have a chance of being able to talk Spock out of it. I have to go see him tonight, and show him that I can work through this. Or…he'll never forgive himself."

"Oh, please," McCoy scoffed. "Do you actually think this is the type of thing that would keep him up at night?" Jim turned around, arms folded across his chest as he regarded McCoy.

"Yeah, Bones. I do. As a matter of fact, I know this is the type of thing that will eat at him." Dropping his gaze to the floor, Jim said, "Once…in the other timeline…that Spock thought he'd killed the other Kirk, and it hurt him more than he could've ever imagined."

"How do you…" McCoy started, but Jim looked up, and McCoy could see it in his eyes. He sighed. Jim had tried to explain what he'd felt when the ancient Vulcan had performed that mind meld. He didn't have the words to explain it fully, but from what McCoy could gather, the relationship between Spock and Kirk in the other timeline was…unique. Definitely more than just commanding and first officer, more than friends, maybe something more akin to brothers, but that description seemed somehow lacking as well. Jim had not wanted to go into specifics about the relationship between the two and McCoy didn't push, mostly because it didn't matter. That Kirk and Spock were not this Kirk and Spock, and as far as McCoy was concerned, that was the end of it.

But it wasn't for Jim. Whatever the Vulcan had shown him through the mind meld had motivated Jim to stubbornly hold out to the last possible moment, literally, for Spock to accept the position of First Officer. It had motivated him to actively work to cultivate a relationship beyond the bridge over the first eight months of their first five-year mission. And it would motivate him to go to Spock tonight and work on repairing the damage to those efforts, no matter what McCoy had to say on the matter. Well, damned if he was going to let Jim do it alone.

"Fine," McCoy grumbled. He stood and shrugged back into his tunic, pulling at the collar. "But I'm coming with you."

"Thanks," Jim said quietly.

McCoy honestly hadn't expected him to acquiesce so easily, and the fact that he did was an indicator of how off-kilter Jim must still feel. Hearing that vulnerability tugged at McCoy and he stepped into Jim's personal space. Slightly hesitantly, he pulled him into a hug and was pleasantly surprised when Jim wrapped his arms around him and held on. After a moment, they both pulled away and McCoy gently ran his hand through Jim's hair, which had been allowed to dry without the benefit of a brush. He smiled slightly, and stepped back. Jim's clear blue eyes met his, an open, sweet expression on his face, and McCoy wasn't sure what he saw there, but he knew he wanted to find out. With that thought ringing in his head, McCoy turned away to put on his shoes.

They made their way to Spock's quarters in silence. It was a short distance down the corridor, and Jim hesitated just a moment before pressing the chime to indicate his presence. The door slid open, and Spock's surprise at seeing the two of them was indicated by just a slight widening of his eyes. He was still in his formal dress, and looked as if he were ready to begin the evening, not end it.

"Captain, Doctor," he said, nodding to each of them. "I assume you are here in regards to the events that transpired earlier this evening. If you will check your comms you will see--"

"Yeah, Spock, we saw. That's what we're here about," Jim interjected. "Can we come in? This is not a conversation I want to have in the hall." Spock hesitated, eyes flicking between the two, before stepping aside.

"Of course, please come in," he said.

McCoy allowed himself a quick glance around as he registered the much warmer temperature; he'd never been in Spock's quarters before. Jim had, and his focus was solely on Spock. Jim noted the way he moved away from them, giving him plenty of space. _Right, _Jim thought. _That won't do._

"Spock, I don't want you to transfer," Jim said plainly. Spock was quiet, and when he didn't seem inclined to offer anything he let out a sigh. "Can we sit? And don't look at me like that – I'm not going to freak out on you."

Spock stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back in his customary pose. "Captain--"

"Jim."

A pause. "Jim. I did not mean to imply anything of the sort by looking at you. I am merely curious as to why both you and Dr. McCoy felt it necessary to come speak with me, if there is truly no need for me to transfer."

_Well,_ McCoy thought. _He certainly doesn't mince words. _

"And that's a fair question. C'mon, let's sit. We do need to talk," Jim replied. Spock inclined his head, and they settled around the small table in the room.

"Okay, so," Jim started, folding his hands in front of him. McCoy could tell he was forcing himself to keep eye contact with Spock. These conversations were never easy, and little things, like folding his hands to stop from fidgeting, gave away the fact that it was harder than he wanted to admit. "It's like this. Apparently I had a post traumatic stress reaction during the dinner." Spock opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Jim raised a hand. "No, let me finish. That happened, but I am not afraid of you, I don't think you're going to suddenly snap one day and try to finish the job, and I don't want you to transfer. I goaded you into that reaction on purpose. You know that. You know why. We talked about it, I apologized, you accepted, and I know you talked to him about it, too." Spock's eyes flicked to McCoy, who was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, furrowed brows in place. Jim waved a dismissive hand. "Bones knows everything." Jim paused, looking down at the table for the first time. "I don't know what triggered me to react that way tonight. My heart and my brain know you're no danger to me. I don't know why my body isn't in sync, but it's not something I'm willing to lose you over. So…that's why Bones is here. To talk about ways to make that happen. We…I…can fix this, and I want you to stay." He looked back up. "Will you?"

Spock shifted his gaze between the doctor and the captain. Finally, he spoke.

"I will do as you wish, but Jim if this does not work…" Jim smiled, his whole face lighting up.

"Spock, trust me, it'll work."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Muscle Memory, Part 2

Author: Caera1996

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Please. Is this even necessary?

Summary: Kirk, Spock and McCoy continue to deal with Jim's post traumatic reaction to Spock while the relationship between Kirk and McCoy develops.

Note: This started as a reply to a prompt on the kink meme that can be found here: .com/st_xi_kink_

Note 2: Muscle Memory, Part 1 can be found here: .#cutid1 You don't necessarily have to read that one first, but this will make more sense if you do.

"This is highly illogical," Spock said. He was observing the two humans in front of him with more than a little skepticism, hands clasped slightly more tightly behind his back than usual. He was attending a meeting regarding the captain's treatment for post traumatic stress in relation to his actions during the Narada incident at the request of the doctor, and though he would not have admitted to being uncomfortable, he failed to see the logic or purpose in what he was being asked to do, and continued to believe simply transferring was the more logical course of action.

Jim, who was perched on the edge of the doctor's desk smiled slightly as the doctor heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"Nothing about this is logical, Spock. Humans tend to internalize traumatic events. Sometimes that results in reactions like Jim had the other day, even if they aren't actively worrying or thinking about something. Your mama was human…didn't you ever see her react as if expecting something unpleasant or surprising to happen again that happened before? It doesn't have to be anything big, but something that made an impression on her that would show itself every now and then for a while?"

Spock frowned slightly and thought about that. Though his mother lived on Vulcan for several years and was familiar with the varied flora and fauna, he did remember her once reacting with fright to one of the native insects that had made a home for itself in her flowerbeds. Her scream had Spock hurrying out to her, and he'd dispatched the offending and potentially dangerous arthropod quickly. It was a period of several weeks before she could go near that particular area without flinching, despite the fact that she'd witnessed the extermination of the creature.

"Yes," he said. Both the captain and the doctor looked at him expectantly, as if waiting him to continue.

"Right," the doctor said after a moment. "Well, then that's the basic idea. Like Jim said, he knows he's in no danger from you, but his body reacted with the stress of the original situation. So, no. It's not logical. But this is necessary."

"Spock, I know it's stupid. Trust me…_I _feel _really _stupid. But Bones thinks it'll work, so…" Jim trailed off, shrugging a shoulder. He let his gaze slip from Spock's to study a point on the floor somewhere near his feet. "Will you work with us? Please?"

Spock regarded the captain and the doctor. He was truly baffled by Jim's insistence in keeping him as part of the Enterprise crew. He thought it had more to do with the elder Spock than him, and while that did not appear to be a sound basis for an on-going professional relationship, this man had saved all of them, more than once. What he was asking of Spock, though illogical and unlikely to be effective, was a minor imposition.

"Yes," he replied. "Please send me the scheduled times for the sessions. I assume they will take place here?"

"That's right," McCoy replied. Spock nodded.

"Then if that will be all, Captain, Doctor," Spock nodded to each of them and took his leave. Once the door to the doctor's office slid shut, Jim moved to take a seat in one of the chairs. McCoy watched him rub a hand over his face, and noted that he seemed more subdued than usual.

"You okay Jim?" he asked.

"Yeah – just tired. It's been a week." McCoy grunted his agreement. Between the negotiations, culminating in the events at the dinner that had made this meeting necessary, the regular pulls on his time to handle the every-day duties of a ship's captain, and the stress of knowing that more than a few high-ups at Starfleet were just waiting to see if the youngest captain in history was going to screw up, McCoy could imagine that "just tired" was more than a bit of an understatement. Jim sighed and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.

"This going in my file, Bones?" Jim asked quietly. McCoy eyed him, though Jim was avoiding looking at him. This was something that had kept McCoy up these last few days. Technically, this absolutely should go in Jim's file, complete with report to Starfleet, counseling with someone from Starfleet Psych, and, almost definitely, Spock's mandatory transfer. A Captain had to be able to trust and work with his First Officer in all situations. If McCoy did put this in his file, Jim's treatment would be out of his hands, and more than likely, unsuccessful. Not because McCoy fancied himself any great therapist. He was a medical doctor first, damnit. But because he knew Jim. And he knew that if someone else was to try to take over his care, physical or otherwise, Jim would shut down. He just didn't trust anyone else like he trusted McCoy. Not to mention the fact that some of those vultures in Starfleet would twist this minor hiccup into proof of incompetence, if given half the chance. Likely, Jim had thought of all of this already.

"No. Not now. I think this will work…so, we'll see. We'll try this and we'll see what happens. And we'll go from there."

Jim was obviously relieved at this news, his body relaxing from the tension that had held his shoulders tight.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Then, "I think I'm going to have dinner in my quarters tonight. Wanna join me?" Bones tossed a padd on his desk and leaned back, stretching.

"I gotta ton of work, Jim."

"So bring it. I've got three separate reports to finish about the meetings with the Kailri'ia."

"What are you going to say about the, uh, incident?" McCoy asked curiously.

Jim shrugged. "Haven't figured it out yet. Why do you think they're not finished? So, dinner and work?"

"Sure."

Jim got up and slapped him on the shoulder, "Great. See ya."

Shaking his head, McCoy set about gathering his things to bring with him. He was happy for this chance to spend some time with Jim alone. Truth be told, and McCoy was nothing if not truthful, he missed him. Between their responsibilities on the ship, there just wasn't a lot of time to simply be in each other's company. They were always together at the Academy, and developed a strong friendship – almost despite McCoy; Jim was really the one who'd developed the friendship. Now, though, things were much more two-sided, and something else was developing. What, he had no idea. And it was…unsettling. To say the least.

* * *

"We're all set to go. The system is designed to monitor some key biological stress markers. If any of them read high a tone will sound, and we'll work on bringing it under control," McCoy explained. He looked over at Jim and Spock. Jim was seated, Spock stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back. "Okay, Spock. Whenever you're ready."

Jim looked at Spock expectantly, who had made no move closer to him, or looked as if he were going to either.

"Anytime," McCoy prompted again.

Jim looked carefully at the Vulcan standing stiffly (well, stiffer than usual) in the center of the room. His face was impassive, but he still looked…off.

"I find this exercise to be fallacious. The captain's response--"

"Jim," he interrupted, suppressing a smile as Spock pressed his lips together in whatever the Vulcan equivalence of annoyance was.

"Jim's response will be mitigated by the mere expectation of my actions," Spock said. "Furthermore, the conditions under which his stress reaction took place undoubtedly included other factors, such as lack of adequate sleep to meet the needs of a human male, and internal factors regarding his state of mind that cannot be adequately reconstructed in such--"

"Okay, Spock. I get it." McCoy interrupted. "You don't think it's going to work. We're doing it anyway."

"Wait a minute, Bones," Jim said. "Do you have another idea Spock?"

"Yes," he paused. "It is an…unorthodox…course of action."

"Well, let's hear it," Jim said, glancing at McCoy. He looked less than happy.

"I propose a mind meld."

_Well, not what I was expecting, _Jim thought. McCoy spoke before Jim could respond.

"What?" He fairly shouted. "Have you lost your Vulcan senses? Why would Jim subject himself to something so invasive _again_? Absolutely not."

"Doctor, your concern is misguided. I believe I would be able to focus my attention on those specific memories that are causing subconscious distress. It would be only as invasive as necessary for that single purpose. And, with all due respect, I do not believe it is a decision you can make for the captain."

_Oh, that was the wrong thing to say, _Jim thought as McCoy's face arranged itself into a furious expression. Before he could start yelling, which would inevitably end with Spock refusing to work with McCoy while he was so "highly emotional" and McCoy insulting Spock's heritage, he'd made his decision.

"Bones…" he said quietly, effectively halting the tirade that he knew was brewing. "Spock, I really, really appreciate that you are willing to do that for me, but I think I'm going to decline for now. If you're still okay with it, let's try Bones' plan first."

Spock inclined his head. "As you wish."

* * *

"Jim…not that I disagree in the slightest, but why did you decide against the mind meld?" McCoy asked later while they were again in Jim's quarters. It was late, and they each had been working quietly, McCoy at the table and Jim on the floor, back against the couch. Jim looked up to where McCoy was sitting and tilted his head slightly, studying his friend. McCoy resisted the urge to fidget under that intelligent gaze, wondering what Jim was using his genius brain to puzzle out. He turned back to the padd in his hands, not really seeing it.

"The mind meld with the other Spock…it was…really intense. There was _a lot_ of emotion there. No, really," he said, glancing up when McCoy made a noise of disbelief. "I mean, he'd just lost his planet, he was stranded, in the wrong universe…can you even imagine? The despair, the sense of powerlessness…it was," he paused, thinking back to that moment in the cave. "It was overwhelming."

McCoy stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt. This was the most Jim had ever spoken on the subject.

"And then," Jim continued after a moment, voice quiet and uncharacteristically tentative. "When he saw me, he just…" Jim swallowed and shook his head. This, he couldn't understand, and found it nearly impossible to put into words. "Hope – I guess, is the best way to describe it…and, and love…I think." He felt himself flush uncomfortably, and glanced up at McCoy again. He blew out a breath. "But not for _me_. For the Kirk he'd known, spent a lifetime with. I don't know, Bones. I can't really explain it. I-I can't even really imagine it." Jim stopped, shaking his head slightly.

McCoy felt his heart clench at the expression on his face. _He really doesn't know how important he is to us…to me._ Leaving his work on the table, McCoy moved to settle himself beside Jim on the floor. They sat shoulder to shoulder, and Jim let his weight lean against McCoy. He sighed, and closed his eyes. McCoy studied him. He looked so much younger in these moments. And he looked exhausted.

"You're not sleeping are you?" McCoy asked. "It's not just this last week." Jim gave a one-shouldered shrug.

"Probably not as well as I could," he admitted.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"What could you do? You know I won't take anything." McCoy rolled his eyes. That was an ongoing point of contention between the two of them. Jim always refused sleep aids, saying they affected him differently, and he needed to be able to be awake and alert at the drop of a hat. Despite McCoy's insistence that, if anything, Jim would metabolize them faster, he never gave in.

"Well, it's late," McCoy said. "I'd better go. We both need to sleep."

He pushed himself up, and Jim followed.

"You…you could stay," Jim said quietly. McCoy turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Stay," he said again, more sure this time. "We've crashed together before…this bed's bigger than the ones at the Academy." He paused. "Neither of us have Alpha shift tomorrow, so why not?"

"Jim…" McCoy said, sinking back down on the couch, elbows braced on his knees. "What are we doing?" Jim sat beside him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is this? What…what do you want?" Jim looked slightly taken aback. Not that McCoy blamed him. It's not like he planned to have this conversation tonight. Or ever. But, never one to back down, Jim smiled gamely.

"I guess…I guess I want whatever you want to give," Jim replied. McCoy shifted uncomfortably. It was his turn to keep his eyes on the ground. He just didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he wanted. The only serious relationship he'd ever had was with his ex, and he'd never considered a relationship with a man before. After a moment, he felt Jim settle on the couch next to him. "Too much?" he asked.

"No," McCoy replied. "I…it's pretty obvious that this is more than just a friendship."

"Does that freak you out?" Jim asked. McCoy looked up at him. There was no recrimination, hurt, or anger in that blue gaze…just understanding and affection.

McCoy hesitated. "No," he answered honestly. "It's just…it's been a while since I've done the relationship thing," Jim smiled.

"Well, all I'm interested in tonight is a solid relationship with my pillow. I'm going to try to sleep. You are welcome to stay. Always. We can figure out the rest later."


End file.
